Yesterday I paddled in the Knot Race. The race, held over in Lewes Deleware, is a great season closer. It originated when a few of the Delmarva and Penn kayakers swore to not to form a race but to organize a fun paddle. And so the Knot Race was born. In this race the focus is on fun, catagories are devised so everyone wins and racing takes a back seat to paddling with friends.
Knot Race T-shirt
This year, despite the best that mother nature could throw at us, the Knot Race was just not not going to happen. It was orginally scheduled for last Sunday (the 18th) but that was not to be. The first Nor’Easter of the season raged through and as Chris said the weather went from bad to dangerous. The organizers rescheduled for this Sunday.
The weekend started to take shape when Stephen emailed to say he was going to be in DC on Saturday and asked if he could join us for sprint practice. That sounded like a good plan with the only problem being that I still needed to run — the Philly Half Marathon is coming up quickly. But I figured, oh well, the Knot race is short and not really racing so who cares if I show up a little tired.
I pulled my body from bed at 6:15 am on Saturday morning and was on the trail by 7:20. It was strangely warm as I ran down the tow path with temps in the 70s and the sky looking like it could open up at any point. As I finished my run down on Water Street 7 miles later, I saw Stephen walking toward the club.
Next up was 3×4km in the K1s. We first put Stephen in Leslie’s Tor but it proved a little too tippy. Turns out sprint boats don’t feel that much like surf skis. So into a trainer he went. We spent the next hour doing a warm up and then 2×4km.
Stephen soon got comfortable and was zipping ahead. Time to try the Tor again. This time he was much more stable. Once underway there was hardly a wobble despite the increasing wind. So up to the 2km mark and back we went again bringing our total to about 14-15km for the day. The usual post practice rehydrating on champagne and orange juice followed.
Once back home, I repacked my bags with ocean gear, loaded the Nemo, grabbed a snack and then Dave and I hit the road out to Chris’s in Delaware. It was windy as a major cold front pushed through. Here was to hoping it would be not be like this tomorrow! We arrived in time for dinner at Dogfishhead where Chris and Dave sampled the local brews since they were not (no I mean really not) racing the next day.
Sunday morning dawned … breezy! The forecast of 7 knot winds was not to be. These were looking much more like 20knots. We arrived at the launch in Lewes to find many many cars with kayaks but not one boat on the ground or in the water. From the beach we could see nothing but whitecaps. After a few phone calls, a more protected course on the Broadkill river was selected. We caravaned over to the new boat launch where the wind was fierce but at least the whitecaps were not.
Jeff E. explained the course a 7 mile out and back looping the bridge. It sounded easy enough so many of us chose to go light. It was only 7 miles and it was cool. No need to fuss with the regular hydration systems, extra food, ect.
Jeff’s adorble daughter Marley called the start and we headed up river. The usual suspects assumed their positions. Susan and Patty were in the lead — in large part due to their just going when they hit the water and not waiting for the start! Earl took off after them with Jeff P. on his tail. Cliff, Stephen and I paddled together briefly until Cliff slowed down to chat with Suan and Patty (this was Knot racing afterall) and Stephen, who hasn’t learned how to not race, took off after Earl.
After about a mile the lead pack had put distance between itself and the others which ended up not being a good thing. See no one in the lead group had any idea where this bridge was. They said Broadkill so up the Broadkill we went. It became clear that things were not going according to plan when we passed Oyster Rocks somewhere around mile 2.5 which is where the Broadkill race starts. From there I knew where the next bridge was and it was not close. It would be Route 1, about 5 miles upriver.
Now if any of us had any sense we would have used those GPSs we had and paddled to some distinguishable marker near 3.5 miles and just turn around. But no, we are not sensable. If Stephen, who was leading, was going to go for the bridge, well then so were we. And so we continued on and on and on and on. Note to self, do NOT follow Stephen!
As we battled the headwinds Mihael and Jeff P. passed me while I bemoaned the light paddler, light boat combination. Eventually the wind turned to our backs and I was able to regain my position in front of them. After an enternity I finally saw Stephen and Cliff returning. The “3 mile” bridge was just another .25 miles ahead at mile 7.25!
I passed under the bridge and turned around. And when I did the GPS slowed dramatically. We had been paddling with the current. Now the current was against us. With7.5 miles to go I saw the GPS read between 3.8 and 4 MPH and knew this “7″ mile paddle was going to be more like a “three hour tour”.
I resigned myself to the situation and kept paddling. I also stopped long enough to retrieve my drinking tube from the cockpit to get a little fuel from the Heed I mixed that morning. This turned out to be a good thing. As I hit the many headwind patches Jeff caught up with me again and we played leap frog for the next 5 miles. He would pass me in the headwind as I was blown backward and I would pass him on the downwind and corners since he had no rudder. We inched our way homeward.
After one of our upwind sections and at mile 12ish I saw Jeff turn for, what I figured was, the home stretch. We paddled up some twists and turns and I started watching the GPS. We were going with the current again and that should not be. I saw Jeff slow at each corner. Eventually I called out asking if he was questioning his directional choice and he said he was. We turned around, against the current, back toward the main river. Note to self, do NOT follow Jeff.
As we exited the creek, we saw Mihael and a ski paddler a bit up river on the other side. So much for all that distance we had put on them! We paddled on and saw the turn we were supposed to make a bit further down. By this time I was done but I just kept going knowing the end was close. My back was killing me, I had no fuel left and this was NOT fun!
Eventually, the main dock came into view and I could KNOT have been happier. I paddled up to it and just sat there holding on for a few mintues. Eventually I got out while Stephen, who had already changed and gotten dry by this point, and Dave got my boat. I stood at the car trying to decide which was more important — eating or changing. In the end I tried to do both.
I was downing a hammer bar, some pita bread and mixing Perpetuem when Dave lead a throughly bonked Jeff over. Jeff hadn’t had any food or water all day and was completely spent. I gave him an Acelgel and some pita bread then he, Stephen and I shared the Pertpetuem. As we were starting to come back to life, Stephen mentioned that he had a box of Cheeze-its in the car. Post-paddling-power food. And with that I agreed to follow Stephen anywhere even if he did KNOT know where he was going!
Saturday was the annual Wye Island Regatta. The 12 mile race around Wye is a pillar in the local racing scene and can always be counted on as an opportunitiy to spend time with great friends.
